What You Do Defines You
by VivaVenezia
Summary: Missing moments from TDKR. Selina's strictly controlled emotions are threatened after she lures Batman to Bane. Meanwhile Bruce is trapped in the pit and is recovering from more than injuries inflicted by Bane.
1. Chapter 1

Leaves litter the wet ground muffling the sound of her steady footsteps. Placing one foot in front of the other, timing it with her breathing. Inhale, right foot, exhale left foot. To a passer by her breathing would sound laboured, but it is merely from determination not exertion. She needs to focus on something and her footsteps are all that keep her mind from straying to the dark place she is leaving.

It is late. Soft rain gives the impression of mist but her long hair and clothes are dripping wet. It dims the normally bright orange hue of the street lamps and only serves to increase her anxiety further. Reaching the end of an alleyway she turns left, glancing over her shoulder. Ignoring a rustling from her right that would scare anyone else, she marches on. Away.

Her anxiety is not visible, nor would it be palpable should she run into any of Bane's men. She has taught herself well. For now it lies in the pit of her stomach, but with each measured step it threatens to rise. Other emotions twist with the anxiety. Toxic to her tightly controlled mind. Guilt. Remorse. Self-loathing. Nothing shows on her damp face.

Eyes fixed straight ahead she soon passes over a bridge and the centre of Gotham swims before her. Without thinking she raises her eyes to the sky. It hits her hard. She stumbles. Gasping, gulping, willing her stony facade not to crumble. Her gloved hand covers her mouth as she retreats into another alley.

Wayne Tower.

Her body betrays her and she leans over, heaving. Unable to prevent the bile of toxicity escaping. She wipes her mouth and tips her chin upwards, allowing the now heavy rain to cool her face. Images invade her mind. Darkness. Broken masks. Broken backs. Bruce.

She is well and truly broken too. A tear escapes her closed eyelids unseen, disguised in the rain.

He had helped her. She had allowed him to be crushed before her eyes.

If she had known would it have changed things?

No.

She was in too deep. She knows this. Yet her memory, betraying her as her stomach had, replays the fight again and again. Slower, Clearer and louder than it had really been. The noises echo in her ears while images of Bruce Wayne and Batman intermingle.

A darkened room and an arrow.

Gushing water.

A ballroom. Pearls. Firm hands.

Cruel laughter.

A panicked look.

A metal door slammed shut.

She's panicking. It's a strange sensation for her. Past memories threaten to escape a long forgotten part of her mind. The flash of passing headlights forces her back into the present. It reawakens her natural reactions. Quick as a flash she is outside Wayne Tower. Averting her eyes and forcing bile back down she hurries on until she reaches home.

Home.

The small apartment she shares with Jen is dark and cold. Jen isn't home and She is grateful. Shivering she makes her way through the dim living room into the bathroom. Leaning forward against the mirror, looking into her own harried eyes she makes a decision. She has tonight. Tonight she will allow herself to feel all that has happened in the past 24 hours. Then in the morning she will wake and go back to her routine. Calm, Collected, Catlike.

When the sun rises announcing the new day, she looks into the same mirror and is relieved to see cold, dead eyes looking back at her.

**This is my first fanfic reviews and comments are extremely welcome! Chapter 2 coming soon :) **


	2. Chapter 2

The sewers are colder than he remembered.

Louder too. The sound of his footsteps reverberate around the dark walls. Heavier and faster than hers. She is ahead of him, lithe as ever. As they continue further and further into the network of sewers he becomes mesmerised by her. She walks with a confidence he has never seen before.

She turns and he does too. He finds himself face to face with utter darkness. It is unrelentingly bleak ahead. Yet sensing her presence in front of him, he follows. Uncomfortably aware of the narrowness of the tunnel he reaches out to find her. He touches her shoulder and a reassuring hand is placed upon his own.

"Not far now"

Her high voice does not echo as his steps do. It is quiet but clear, as if spoken into his ear. Without warning they turn a corner into blinding light. His hand is thrown from its resting place close to her neck and he is pushed. The cold metal door clangs shut with an awful finality and suddenly he is falling.

Down into the darkness.

He jerks awake. The pain in his back is severe, not helped by the jolt that woke him. He closes his eyes, breathing through his nose. His breath is shallow and quick. Unable to breathe deeply because the sharp pain becomes unbearable. He tries in vain to assess the state of his damaged body, but everything hurts. Everything.

It burns with searing absoluteness.

Yet through the physical plight another agony is tangible. Betrayal.

It lingers and sears deeper than the pain caused by his injuries. For what seems like an age he lies there unable to move or to even think. Time passes slowly. Each minute lengthened and exaggerated by fear. Every second Gotham ticks closer to annihilation. Possessed by a sudden urge of panic, he moves. Dragging himself, forcing himself to do something, he falls from the filthy cot to the floor. Excruciatingly he attempts to push himself up and achieve what was once an easy feat for him.

He falls.

He lets himself rest against the cold, damp floor. Allowing himself to feel everything, but the pain is so constant and so overwhelming he can't separate the physical pain from the mental.

Death would have been quicker. Death would have easier.

The noise of a door opening and closing registers dimly. He is surprised by the gentle voice that accompanies the footsteps. A fatherly hand brushes his hair backwards and he looks up into the face of an old man. He is carrying rope.

Hours later he wakes to find himself strung up in the rope. It is dark and he represses a shudder as he remembers his dream and Ra's Al Ghul with terrifying clarity. If it is cold he can't feel it. Feverish and his position uncomfortable, he is alone and can only wait.

More time passes. How much he cannot tell. Drifting into a fitful sleep once more, her face floods his mind. The battle with Bane is slow and he can see her watching. He does not feel pain or panic, simply regret. A tear rolls steadily from her wide eyes onto her cheek.

Suddenly he is there with her, no suit, no mask, just him. He reaches a hand to her cheek and wipes the tear away, placing his face close to hers. As their lips are about to touch, he wakes.

For one glorious moment he forgets where he is and what has happened. A hint of a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. Half a second later, he stops himself.

She betrayed him.

She was in to deep. Would he rather she had been killed by Bane?

No.

Gotham is on the brink of nuclear destruction, because of her.

No.

Not because of her, because of him. Because he'd convinced himself Gotham needed Batman.

Guilt courses through him. Stubborn tears mingle with droplets of sweat. He bows his head, not wanting to be in the same room as himself. Alfred's words resound in his ears.

"You're afraid that if I go back out there I'll fail?"

"No...I'm afraid that you want to."

Did he? Or was his ego just so inflated that he believed he was still the same Bruce Wayne that had been Gotham's saviour? Had he allowed himself to be flattered and coerced into acting the hero once more?

He wishes someone would knock him unconscious to stop the back and forth flow of thoughts.

He focusses on the pain of his broken body. Hoping movement and intense pain will distract him from his helplessness. Distract him from Gotham and from her.

Days later he decides. Days later her forgives her.


	3. Chapter 3

Seconds, minutes, hours pass. Stretching days into what feels, to her, like months.

Gotham has fallen.

Masses run riot through the city that had fleetingly felt like home. Homes are destroyed, lives dismantled and hope disbanded.

When she walks through the narrows at night, the streets are quiet and save for a few of Bane's men, they are empty too.

Like her.

Selina often finds herself walking these streets at night. Tonight is no exception. The winter air is bitterly cold, the sky clear and the stars bright. It is the kind of night that makes her feel calm. Though a war is raging around her, the lack of sound is peaceful.

The sound of snow crunching beneath her feet is the only sound she hears as she moves stoically forward. It does not take her long to reach her destination, a familiar alleyway in the centre of the city. A place that normally buzzed on a friday night, but for now is as silent as the rest of Gotham.

Without hesitation she reaches up to the fire escape and swings her legs onto the first level. From here she could climb using ladders, but where is the fun in that? She continues her ascent in the same way.

The adrenaline that used to accompany her in these exploits is gone.

When she reaches the top of the building, she is not out of breath, but she exhales heavily anyway. She sits on the edge of the rooftop, relishing this time alone. Not an easy thing to come by these days, Jen constantly pushing her to enjoy what she had brought about.

Looking towards the heavens, she allows herself to drift backwards into memories of how she had come to Gotham.

She had only been eleven years old when her parents had died. A car crash. With no extended family to take care of her, she had been moved to the nearest children's home. To Gotham. It hadn't taken her long to realise that her survival necessitated change.

So she had. Ballet lessons from the age of four had helped her to become strong and flexible. She was a willing student and before long a master in trickery herself.

The year or so that Batman had patrolled the streets, she had flourished. Not many were brave enough to continue in her way of life, but she had nothing else. Kicked out of the Children's home and moved into a juvenile detention centre at sixteen, she knew there was no way back. Besides, she was cleverer than the whole of Gotham's underground put together. She never left a pattern.

In the eight years that had elapsed since, with the passing of the Dent Act, it had become harder and harder to stay alive. She got involved with Dagget's men and then eventually Bane. Although there had been minimal direct contact, it was all Selina had needed to know that this was more dangerous than anything else she had ever done. After witnessing the violent death of an innocent man at the hands of Bane, she decided.

This was no longer the life for her.

The fresh start she so desired was out of reach, hindered by the actions of her younger self.

She had gone to Dagget.

She had pleaded so desperately with him, that she believed him when he told her that there was a way out.

She snorts with laughter as she remembers how her desperation had led her to Bruce Wayne. One look had told her he was as desperate as she was.

Irony had never been her friend.

What she believed was her only shot at freedom had incarcerated the whole of Gotham.

Not that this wouldn't have happened had Selina not been involved. Yet, she still felt guilty.

As tears begin to make an unwelcome appearance, she shakes her head desperately. They do not diminish but rather increase and within a minute she is overwhelmed with hopelessness.

What has she done?

How can she ever forgive herself?

There was no one that could save them now.

Bruce was surely dead by now, or at least close to death. She knows how Bane likes his enemies to suffer. She looks over the ledge she is sat upon to the street below.

For a brief and shining moment she considers jumping.

The pavement beneath her glitters invitingly with the release from all her suffering.

She struggles to her feet, legs dead with cold. She wobbles, lurching forward an inch only for her reflexes to kick in seconds later.

She stumbles backwards, horrified by her moment of weakness.

What has she become?

She sits again, but this time closer to the fire escape. Breathing deliberately slowly she forces herself to think clearly.

What does she want?

Redemption.

The word is in her head before she has time to think of it.

Redemption.

* * *

**Ciao! Sorry for the long wait for the update, it has been crazy busy at uni recently! I hope you're enjoying this :) I'm not too sure about this chapter, but hopefully it is still readable! Thank you to those of you that have viewed, read and reviewed :D :D **

**Please don't forget to review... how can I improve if I don't know how? **


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